The year was 2056, a time when the line between humans and technology had thinned so much it was almost nonexistent. Wrapped around everyone’s wrist was a device called the Pulse—a slim, multifunctional band that replaced nearly everything: payment tools, phones, personal IDs, even entertainment.
But the Pulse wasn’t the only thing reshaping the world. There was one game the entire planet was obsessed with—Project Omniverse. It wasn’t just entertainment; it was an economy. Its virtual currency, Aether, could be used in real life. People made a living from it. Many even treated it as a fairer second world compared to the real one.
I’m Nate—and yes, I hate that name—currently struggling to earn my way into that world. Twenty-two years old, living alone, single, stuck working at a tiny convenience store just to save up for one goal: buying the gear needed to play Project Omniverse.
The only reason this place still hired humans like me was because maintaining robots cost far more. When they broke, they needed certified technicians and special parts. Meanwhile, a human like me? Just pay us low wages and give us long shifts.
I leaned my chin on my palm behind the cashier counter.
“I really want to play Project Omniverse already,” I muttered. My voice nearly drowned under the hum of the AC.
In the corner of the store, two teenagers were laughing loudly. They sat near the window, looking way too happy for a world like this.
“I’m already level fifty, bro! Look,” said the guy in the black shirt, projecting an AR Overlay from his Pulse.
AR Overlays—transparent holographic displays from the Pulse—were windows to all digital activity: messaging, streaming, calls, news, and more.
“That was fast! Okay, help me fight Gang Igris’s Boss in Forgotten District later, yeah?” said his friend, the one with curly hair.
“Sure. Leave it to me,” the guy in black replied proudly.
“Let’s go home. I can’t wait to log in again!” the curly-haired one said, eyes sparkling.
They approached the counter, still joking around.
“How much is it?” the black-shirt guy asked.
“I’ll pay. But you better help me later,” his friend cut in.
“Forty-five UniCred,” I said flatly.
“I’ll pay with Aether,” he said, pulling up his overlay again.
UniCred was the global currency used through the Pulse. Aether—the currency inside Project Omniverse—had official exchange value because the same company created both the Pulse and the game.
“That’ll be four thousand five hundred Aether,” I told him.
He typed the amount, then made a gesture like tossing light at me. My own AR Overlay flickered—transfer complete.
“Thank you. Have a nice day,” I said with no expression.
They left the store laughing, leaving behind a kind of energy that didn’t belong in a place this quiet.
Not long after, a man dropped his items on the counter. His messy, dyed-red hair looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, dark eyebags, rumpled clothes—but his eyes were wide awake. Kaito—the electronics shop technician near my place. A hardcore extrovert who, for some reason, liked bothering me.
“Total is eighty-six UniCred,” I said tiredly.
“That tone of yours, Night. Can you sound a little more alive? You sound like a corpse,” he chuckled.
“My name’s Nate, not Night,” I muttered without looking up.
“But your aura fits Night better,” he teased.
“In that case, the total is ninety-five UniCred.”
He blinked. “Huh? You said eighty-six!”
“Extra fee for getting my name wrong,” I said calmly.
“Very funny,” he grumbled, then sent the eighty-six UniCred without arguing further.
Before leaving, he paused. “By the way, I know someone selling a used Neo Helm Genesis. You’d be interested, right, Night?”
My whole body tensed. My heart felt like it skipped a beat. Neo Helm Genesis—the main gear for entering Project Omniverse. Rare. Expensive. A dream.
“Seriously? How much?” I asked quickly.
He smirked, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Information costs a little something, you know.”
“Come on, Kaito. I’ll pay you later, after I buy the helm,” I pleaded.
He stared at me for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “Alright. I’ll give it to you now. But remember—favors must be repaid.” He tapped his Pulse, and a new contact instantly appeared on my overlay.
“Thank you, Mister Kaito,” I said with a smile I hadn’t worn in ages.
He walked off, waving. “Ciao, Night.”
I stared at the new contact, my heart still racing.
“Finally,” I whispered. “Time to call this person.”
My fingers tapped the holographic display of the Pulse. A soft blue glow washed over my face.
And for some reason, that moment felt like the start of something much bigger.
The AR Overlay showed an ongoing call. My heartbeat quickened. After a few seconds, someone finally answered.
“Hello? Who is this?” a woman’s voice came through—clear, cold.
“My name’s Nate. I heard from a friend that you’re selling a second-hand Neo Helm Genesis, is that right?” I asked quickly.
“Oh, yeah. I just upgraded to the new version, so I’m selling the old one,” she replied casually.
“How much is it?” I asked, unable to hide my excitement.
“Forty-five thousand UniCred.”
My eyes widened. “Forty-five thousand? For a used item?” The words came out before I could stop them.
“Even second-hand, the game’s already installed and ready to play. If you buy new, you’d have to buy the game again. Isn’t that cheaper?” Her tone was flat but assured.
She was right. A brand-new one cost about sixty thousand, not counting the eight thousand UniCred game license. But still—hearing the number directly stunned me.
“If you’re not interested, I can sell it to someone else,” she said lightly.
“No! I’ll take it. Meet me tonight at seven at the convenience store on Maximillian Street,” I blurted, terrified she’d change her mind.
“Alright. See you there.”
The audio cut off, leaving only the fading blue light.
I stood still for a moment. It felt like I’d just won the lottery.
“Finally… I’ll get to play Project Omniverse.”
But the joy quickly faded when I remembered my Pulse balance. Buying that helm would wipe my savings clean.
“It’s fine,” I whispered, trying to reassure myself. “I can survive on noodles. Two-pack ramen split into eight meals. Easy. Genius.” I let out a small laugh.
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A customer standing in front of the counter stared at me like I was insane.
“Oh! Sorry—welcome!” I snapped back to work.
----
Later that night.
I stood in front of the convenience store, watching the busy main road. Headlights formed long lines through the mist. On the right, delivery robots streamed down the sidewalk, each carrying packages from major logistics companies.
An ambulance sped through the air, its siren echoing between the tall buildings. Only emergency vehicles were allowed to fly above the city.
“Same night as always,” I muttered. “But for me, this is a new one.”
My Pulse vibrated. The AR Overlay lit up—Unknown ID. That had to be her. I answered immediately.
“This is Nate. I’m here already,” I said hurriedly.
“I’m behind you,” the voice replied coldly from the Pulse speaker.
I turned automatically. Behind me stood a girl with long black hair beside a large matte-black motorcycle. She looked around eighteen or nineteen, wearing a blue jacket, sunglasses, and chewing gum with zero expression. A large box was strapped to the back of her bike.
She hung up the call once our eyes met.
“My name is Na—”
“Let’s just finish this. Transfer the money,” she cut in bluntly.
I froze for a second. “O-oh, right. Sorry.” I opened my overlay and typed the amount.
“Um… could you maybe lower the price a little? So I can at least buy food for the next few days.”
She scoffed. “If you don’t have the money, don’t make a purchase agreement.” Her tone was icy.
Her words stung. I swallowed my frustration and hit the transfer button. “Sent. Please check.”
She glanced at her Pulse, then nodded. “Done. Here.” She lifted the box off her bike and handed it to me without expression. “Enjoy the game.”
Without waiting for a response, she started her bike again and rode off. The bold words on the back of her jacket gleamed under the streetlights:
NO GAME NO LIFE
I watched her leave with mixed feelings.
“A bike that expensive and she still couldn’t spare a discount,” I muttered bitterly.
But the irritation evaporated the moment I opened the box in my hands. The Neo Helm Genesis. Real. Right in front of me.
I almost jumped from excitement.
“Finally.”
----
Once home, I showered quickly and got everything ready. Hunger didn’t matter. The real world could wait.
I lifted the helmet carefully, almost reverently. A faint scent lingered inside—probably her shampoo. I smirked.
“Buying used gear from a girl wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” I murmured.
I powered it on. A soft hum filled the air. White light swallowed my vision even with my eyes closed. Streams of data and holographic symbols swirled around me, as if I were being pulled into a digital current.
A large message appeared:
WELCOME TO PROJECT OMNIVERSE
Then everything went dark. My body felt like it was being dragged through a directionless void. When I opened my eyes again, I was in an all-white room.
A single desk stood at the center. Behind it, a girl with glasses stared at me expressionlessly.
My body was pitch-black, as if made of living digital charcoal. Slow motions rippled along its surface. Binary numbers crawled across my skin like artificial pulses.
“Welcome to Project Omniverse, Player No: Omg-9980654238.”
The girl’s voice came from ahead. Flat, clear, but calm in a way no human voice ever sounded.
I looked up. She stood in front of a holographic screen, typing on nothing. Her fingers moved with surgical precision—as if this world simply obeyed her.
“Data scanning will begin. Please remain still for a few seconds,” she said.
A download bar appeared in the air, its percentage creeping upward. I stared at it without really understanding what was happening—only feeling my body grow strangely light… as if it were being peeled apart, copied, then reassembled.
The moment it hit 100%, my body returned to normal. A gray T-shirt and shorts—the same outfit I wore before logging in. But something felt off.
As if my skin wasn’t mine.
“Scan complete. Your avatar’s body has been synchronized with your real physical form to prevent impersonation and fraud,” she said calmly.
I studied her. She looked real. Too real.
“Is she human… or just an AI?” I wondered, then cautiously reached out to touch her.
My hand passed straight through.
No sensation—just cold air and a faint electric tingle at my fingertips.
“As you can see,” she said, as if she knew exactly what I’d done, “I am only a visual representation. I possess no physical form.”
I stepped back.
“Project Omniverse is a player’s second world. Here, all human senses remain active—including pain.”
“Pain?” I eyed her. “You mean if I fall from someplace high—”
“—it will feel like your bones are breaking, but only at around twenty percent of the actual pain,” she cut in, her tone dropping slightly so it wouldn’t sound too threatening. “Enough for your body to react, but not enough to cause harm.”
I frowned. “You can… answer me directly?”
“Of course. I’m programmed to respond to all new player inputs.”
I took a breath. This world already felt too real to be called a game.
“Just like the real world, you can smell, feel, and taste here,” she continued. “But food and drink won’t remove hunger or thirst in reality. Your real body still needs rest.”
“Fine,” I muttered.
“And one more important rule,” she said, her tone sharpening, “harassment of other players will result in a permanent ban.”
I raised a brow. “Makes sense. With human senses active, I bet a lot of people get weird ideas.” I whispered it, but she still heard.
“If your character dies,” she went on, “you can only log in again after twenty-four hours. Some items will be lost, and your level will drop significantly. Store important belongings in city warehouses to avoid unnecessary losses.”
“Twenty-four hours?” I blurted. “That’s longer than my break in real life.”
The AI looked at me—or pretended to.
“This world is designed so players value life, even in digital form.”
Her words stuck in my head. Value life… even in a digital world.
“To access your status and inventory, simply think the command,” she said. “Please try.”
“All right,”
I thought. Status.
Immediately, a blue screen appeared in front of my face, displaying my data.
----
Name: –
Level: 1
HP: 10/10
MP: 5/5
Origin Server: –
Stats:
STR: 7
INT: 3
VIT: 6
DEX: 5
AGI: 8
LUK: 4
----
“This data is taken from the Pulse you use in the real world,” she explained.
I clicked my tongue. “INT is only three? Seriously? Am I that stupid?”
“These values reflect your physiological and cognitive balance based on an accurate scan,” she replied without hesitation.
“Amazing. An AI that’s polite but still finds a way to call you dumb.”
She ignored me. “You can learn the rest of the rules as you play. For now, please enter your character name.”
I thought hard. “Something cool, but still connected to me…”
I muttered, “Nate… Raider…”
“Name registered: NightRaid,” she cut in instantly.
I stared at her. “Wait, I didn’t agree to that!”
“Name pending confirmation. Please confirm: yes or no.”
But NightRaid wasn’t bad. No point wasting time.
“Fine, I’ll use it,” I said softly, trying to hide the embarrassment that it technically wasn’t my choice.
“NightRaid has been taken by ten other players,” she said flatly. “Would you like to add an identification number, such as NightRaid95, NightRaid88, or NightRaidxxx, so your friends can find you?”
I groaned. “Those sound like porn site usernames.”
“How about KingRaider?” I tried quickly.
“Seven users found.”
“MajesticNate?”
“Three.”
After almost a hundred attempts, every name was taken. It felt like punching a digital wall.
“Damn… even making a name is harder than getting into heaven,” I muttered bitterly.
I went quiet for a few minutes, thinking hard. The AI girl kept typing on her holographic screen while I stood there helplessly. Then an idea popped into my head.
“What about Yoruno? From the Japanese word ‘yoru,’ meaning night.”
She typed rapidly, her eyes scanning the transparent screen.
“Checking database… Yoruno exists in kanji form, but has not been registered in Latin alphabet. Do you accept this name?”
A screen appeared in front of me:
----
‘Do you accept the name Yoruno?’
Yes [O] No [X]
----
Below it were two symbols—circle and cross.
Without hesitation, I tapped the circle [O].
“Welcome, player Yoruno. Before entering the game, please select one of the four available servers. Remember, it takes six months to transfer servers.”
Four server icons appeared, each with a description:
----
First Server: Aethelgard
A classic RPG world of vast fantasy where swords and magic speak louder than words. Survival of the fittest—fight freely, betray freely. A home for true warriors, and a graveyard for beginners.
Second Server: Azure Abyss
An endless ocean dotted with mysterious islands and dungeons hiding legendary treasures. Become a pirate, treasure hunter, or ruler of the seas—it’s your call. But beware: sea monsters aren’t the only danger; greedy players roam everywhere.
Third Server: Elysian Realm
A haven for players seeking peace. A city styled after the early 21st century—smartphones, street cafés, retro shops—a nostalgic refuge for those who miss the era before Pulse took over everything. No PK. Here, you can farm, trade, or simply live a quiet “old world” life.
Fourth Server: Ashen Wasteland
A post-apocalyptic world of war and ruin. Players fight over resources, territory, and survival against raiders. A hardcore FPS server for true adrenaline junkies.
----
I paused for a few seconds.
From everything I’d read, new players were advised to avoid Aethelgard and Ashen Wasteland—both infamous for brutal player killers hunting newcomers.
“All right,” I murmured decisively. “I like RPGs, but I’m not trying to die in the first minute. Azure Abyss it is.”
I pressed the icon.
Suddenly… the screen shook.
A sharp, buzzing noise filled the air—bzzzt… bzzzzttt—piercing at the edges. The digital world around me cracked like shattered glass.
“What’s happening?!” I panicked, trying to open another menu, but everything scrambled. Colors glitched, the AI’s voice distorted.
“ERR— CONNECTION— FAI—LURE—”
Everything went dark.
A fraction of a second later, the world was ripped away—as if my consciousness was yanked out of that digital body.
“ARGHH!” I jolted awake on my bed, cold sweat soaking my skin.
A red light pulsed on the side of the Neo Genesis helmet. Thin smoke drifted from its cooling ports.
I froze. My breath hitched. Don’t tell me—
I tapped the helmet’s side. No response. Just a faint whine… then silence.
“No way…” I whispered. “I didn’t even get to play…”
I stared at the device for a long moment. My entire savings—gone. All for a dead piece of tech.
“ARGHHH!” I kicked at the air, furious, on the verge of tears.
I desperately tried calling the seller’s number.
“The number you have dialed cannot be reached.”
I tried again. And again. Same result.
My Pulse hovered in front of me through AR display, showing a single cold message:
User unreachable.
I sank to the floor, staring blankly at the helmet—now nothing more than an expensive corpse of plastic.
Silence filled the room.
Slowly, I muttered, “Why is my life this pathetic…”
For the first time that night, I let out a small laugh—quiet, bitter, empty.
Then I cried—not because of the money, but because of something stranger: the feeling that another world had opened for me… only to slam shut in my face.
